


Jamais Vu

by CloverTheGrand



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Dark Aziraphale (Good Omens), Gabriel Whump (Good Omens), Gaslighting, Gen, Mind Control, Psychological Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:02:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29352405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloverTheGrand/pseuds/CloverTheGrand
Summary: In psychology,jamais vu(/ˌʒæmeɪ ˈvuː/ ZHAM-ay VOO, US: /ˌʒɑːm-/ ZHAHM-, French: [ʒamɛ vy]), a French borrowing meaning "never seen", is the phenomenon of experiencing a situation that one recognizes in some fashion, but that nonetheless seems novel and unfamiliar.[Or: Aziraphale mind controls Michael to torment Gabriel]
Relationships: Aziraphale & Gabriel (Good Omens), Gabriel & Michael (Good Omens)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 20
Collections: Descent Into Perdition and DiP-verse Works





	Jamais Vu

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Descent Into Perdition](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23887096) by [dreamsofspike](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsofspike/pseuds/dreamsofspike). 



> I drew [this piece](https://cloversart.tumblr.com/post/641700812160221184/not-sure-what-the-context-is-other-than-michael) a while back that had no story whatsoever. Then my arse went: "hey, this would fit the DiP universe pretty well!" And so this fic was born. 
> 
> This fic was started before chapter 32, hence no mention of Aziraphale's mysteriously exponential growth of his powers. 
> 
> Thanks to Dreamsofspike for beta-ing this work!! Happy reading!

While standing at his desk, trying to decide which implement to use for Gabriel's penance, Aziraphale suddenly noticed a hair on the archangel's folded clothes. A single long, curled strand like copper wire. Too long to be Gabriel’s, too muted to be Crowley’s. Then a cold smile bloomed across Aziraphale’s face.

_Oh, my dove,_ he thought. _Your big sister’s been comforting your troubles with cuddles, has she?_

Aziraphale then swiftly plucked it up and tucked it inside his handkerchief. The essence of a subject was a potent ingredient in human magic and came in many forms. Nails, teeth, or most famously, hair. Antsy with the possibilities of this new ingredient, he made sure that this lesson ended faster than usual, and with only a small slap on the wrist. Gabriel, therefore, went back to Heaven more relieved than usual. 

All the better to decimate, of course.

Michael’s hair currently sat inside a wooden bowl, framed by a chalk circle of runes, as Aziraphale flicked through a grimoire. Satisfied with the arrangement, he closed his eyes and recited the incantation.

When Aziraphale opened his eyes again, he was in a place too bleached, too bright. Michael’s war trophies lavishly decorated a wall, and below his hands - _Michael’s_ hands - were papers. A trail of golden stardust had smeared down the document, thanks to the limp stylus between her willowy fingers. 

A quiet exhale escaped Michael, and she stood up. She waved her hand and the smear disappeared. That was strange. Perhaps work fatigue had begun to overcome her. 

Aziraphale gasped as he returned to the backroom. The grimoire had warned of this effect-- how the owner of the vessel would be sedated unless the invading presence lost focus. Worse still, during that transition, the vessel’s owner could regain conscience and _witness_ their vessel being puppeteered. The bureaucratic rubbish Michael had been working on was certainly not enough to hold Aziraphale's interest - and the moment his focus faded, he lost control and she was able to take back her own body. 

Once again, Aziraphale closed his eyes and recited the incantation, and he was back in Heaven. Michael stood up and left her office immediately this time. The queue of angels that flocked Michael’s corridor did worry him, but Aziraphale found that a simple wave of dismissal was enough to make them leave. 

Admittedly this point of view thrilled Aziraphale. He was once like these lower-ranked angels, cowering to his superiors. Now, he was acting as _their_ superior, who no one would dare question or cross.

Gabriel’s office appeared to be empty upon arrival. If Gabriel had cast a glamour over the windows, surely he would have made sure his door was locked as well. Such a miracle would require another Archangel to override it. Too bad for Gabriel, Aziraphale had access to Michael's abilities. He was merely puppeteering her, after all. Michael’s hand carefully clasped around the handle. With a simple twist, Gabriel’s miracle was overridden with a pop, and the door swung wide open. 

Gabriel had just emerged from the shower, wearing only a white towel around his waist. Aziraphale closed the door, locking it, then stepped nearer towards Gabriel. Panicked and flustered at Michael’s sudden appearance, Gabriel tried to hide himself by turning away, though his feet remained planted on the ground. 

The loss of muscle mass on Gabriel’s corporation made him look... unappealing. Before, one might have said that Gabriel had a set of "washboard abs". And now, he simply looked like... well, a washboard. A bare frame with pronounced, narrow ribs, and little else. _Lost the gut, have you, dove?_

That was too mundane for ‘Michael’ to notice, however, even if it would hurt whatever still remained of Gabriel’s vanity. Michael could pick apart Gabriel’s shy, nervous composure, or the Hellfire scars on his wrists that Gabriel tried to hide. But ah… why not choose the pettiest option? To cement just how little Michael truly cared about Gabriel? Michael’s eyes fell onto the watch on Gabriel’s wrist, and her brows furrowed.

“Gabriel… did you shower with your watch on?” he asked in Michael’s voice. 

Gabriel frowned, embarrassed, and looked away. “Maybe.”

Michael’s face turned sour. Still had that air of defiance in him. “Do you even realise that you’re supposed to take it off? Or are you too lazy to do so?”

Gabriel swallowed and covered the watch with a hand. “I- y-yes. Sorry. I’ll take it off next time.”

Aziraphale was bored. That wasn’t as ego-bruising as he had thought. So, time to deal with the elephant in the room. Michael glared at the mark on Gabriel’s chest. 

“What is that?” 

A silent gasp escaped Gabriel, and he _cowered_. That was more like it. He tried to step away as Michael stepped forward. He stilled when Michael touched the scar, tracing the W with her forefinger and the middle line with her thumb. Gabriel was shivering but stayed where he was. Good, good. The training had paid off well.

Michael’s manicured fingers lifted from Gabriel’s chest, and Aziraphale made sure that her face was scrunched in disgust. "Hellfire. This was burnt by Hellfire! You didn't get caught by a _demon_ , did you?” Then, Michael tilted her head and innocently pointed out, “An Archangel like you could simply smite a demon. That’s what you’re made to do. Or did you let it... _dominate_ you?” 

"N-no. Not a demon." 

_Not a demon, indeed. Even if he did forge the blade._

“The traitors?” The effect on Gabriel’s face was satisfyingly _hilarious_. Gabriel’s eyes turned round within their dark, hollowed sockets. 

“N-no! It’s not what it looks like!”

This was a golden opportunity for method acting.

Michael marched forward, her fists clenched. “What did you tell them about us? Do you have any idea what damage you've done? You could have KILLED US ALL, YOU STUPID, CLUMSY OAF!” He struck Gabriel as naturally as breathing; with Michael's strength behind the blow, Gabriel fell back a few metres. There was an audible crack! as Gabriel’s skull collided with his desk.

“I loved you, trusted you, with every inch of my being, ignored how _wicked_ you truly are, and _this_ is how you repay me? _This_ is how you repay the Heavenly Host?”

Gabriel shook his rectangular head, though his bloodshot eyes remained on Michael. They were glazed beautifully with tears now, a sheen that reminded Aziraphale of candied hawthorn. “I-I tried. I really did try, Michael-”

Gabriel was gripped by his thin shoulders, and Michael’s nails dug deeply into his flesh. “You should have paid your penance, plummeted into the Pit where you belong.” You should have stayed in Hell where you belonged. “Are you on my side or theirs?”

Like a ragdoll, Gabriel was tossed into the centre of his office. Michael towered over Gabriel, casting a shadow over his crumpled form. Gabriel was hyperventilating now, his teeth digging into his lips, tears falling from his eyes. 

"You don't deserve to live."

Michael’s hand clenched around Gabriel’s neck, Michael’s power flooding the veins of her vessel thrilling Aziraphale. He truly could smite Gabriel right here, right now. Finally, this stain, this mistake that had always plagued his existence would be erased. And Gabriel would be too obedient, too cowardly to ever fight back.

Only, this time, Gabriel gripped Michael’s forearm.

“Michael, please, stop, THIS ISN’T YOU!”

The desperation yet courage in Gabriel’s words shocked Aziraphale enough to stop. 

Too soon. 

Michael’s nostrils flared as she exhaled, glaring at Gabriel with disapproval. “We will discuss this no more. You disgust me, Gabriel. You can die by their hand for all I care. Beaten, branded until you’re hanging by your last thread of life. _I_ won’t come to rescue you.” 

A deep purple bruise began to bloom around Gabriel’s neck. Gabriel stared up at Michael, chest heaving. Within his eyes was a concoction of shock, confusion, and sadness... but most importantly, fear. His bottom lip trembled as if he wanted to argue, but ultimately Gabriel said nothing, and he hung his head down in submission. Oh, Aziraphale could observe that beautiful picture for all of eternity. 

But Aziraphale could not afford to lose concentration now at such a crucial time. Michael walked back into her office, leaving Gabriel to pick up the pieces. The door was left ajar, exposing Gabriel to the empty corridor. Behind him, Aziraphale heard the creak of door hinges echo throughout the corridor, and then a click as the door closed. 

Once again, Michael was seated at her chair. Aziraphale then picked up Michael’s ‘precious papers’ and shuffled them around to look as if she had done some work. The rustling of the papers was hypnotic, reminding Aziraphale of his books, and Michael’s eyes closed. Michael opened her eyes and blinked at the disordered documents in her hands. She sighed. She worried about Gabriel more these days, especially since Gabriel had only recently trusted her enough to embrace him again.

Michael picked up her phone and dialled Gabriel’s number, anxiously drumming her nails against the desk as she waited. Three minutes in, no one on the other side picked up. Michael cancelled the call, her heart heavy like lead.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale sat in his favourite armchair, reflecting upon his performance. Gabriel and Michael had been close like siblings ever since the Beginning. Aziraphale shouldn’t have behaved too callously without completely knowing their dynamic.

This was a risky enough operation already. Gabriel may had suspected that his sister acted rather out of character. Gabriel and Michael’s dynamics were severed enough, and after what had happened, he would not have the courage to seek her out again. Aziraphale could hardly think of how he could worsen their relationship, so a second visit would not be as necessary.

But oh, was that look of betrayal so delectable! A glimpse into emotions Gabriel had never shown him. Not to mention how addictive it was to have the power of an Archangel flow through his veins.

With a pair of tweezers, Aziraphale plucked the hair out of the bowl. He then corked it into a specimen glass, labelling who this sample belonged to. This was fun while it lasted. 

Until next time. 


End file.
